And the Angels Were Silent
by Liz Huisman
Summary: "He's clutching his shoulder, Merry."
1. One

Title: And the Angels Were Silent (1/?)  
  
Author: Liz Huisman  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these lovely characters. Dammit.  
  
Summary:  
  
A/N: Me and my dark mood today.hmph. I had to write this. I couldn't get it out of my head (I have no idea why) and since my mood was nice and dark, I thought it'd be easier to write it now. So anyway, I'm shamelessly changing post-quest events. This is taking place a year after it's over, starting on October 6. Sam's gone on one of his trips around the Shire planting his trees, and tending them, and whatever. The title is taken from some Max Lucado book sitting on my mom's bookshelf. This is my first LotR angst stuff. And yes, when this EF is done, I'll go and make someone gay. Okay?  
  
  
  
(1)  
  
  
  
Frodo Baggins put on his normal after-breakfast tea, taking after the customs of his elder cousin, Bilbo Baggins.  
  
He sat quietly in his soft armchair and waited for the familiar whistling of the kettle. His mind started wandering back to Bilbo, and Rivendell. How he missed Bilbo! He could picture quite clearly in his mind, from days long ago, of Bilbo sitting in this very chair, having his after-breakfast tea, and reminiscing with Frodo, telling him all sorts of stories. That, of course, was well before Bilbo's Farewell Party, and before the quest.  
  
Frodo got to thinking of the last time he saw Bilbo. Bilbo looked old, and frail, something Frodo had never remembered thinking about him before.  
  
It had just been Bilbo's 130th birthday, tying him with the Old Took in age. Frodo hadn't gone to see him in Rivendell, and regretted it. He had stayed at Bag End, and celebrated with Sam, Merry, and Pippin, for it was his birthday as well.  
  
He finally heard the whistling of the kettle. As soon as he stood up, though, a funny feeling came over him. His shoulder was hurting him again, and he was feeling quite light-headed. He started toward the kitchen, thinking that a cup of tea would help him, but he never reached the kitchen.  
  
Frodo had passed out on his way.  
  
  
  
Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took stood patiently outside Bag End, waiting for Frodo to open up his door and let them in.  
  
"I wonder what could be keeping Frodo," wondered Merry, voicing the thoughts of both he and Pippin. "He was expecting us, right?"  
  
"Of course. Do you think he'd mind?" Pippin opened up the door to Frodo's hobbit-hole slowly.  
  
Merry just sighed and followed Pippin inside. As he turned to shut the door, he saw what gave him a shock. "Frodo!"  
  
Pippin turned and saw what Merry had seen. They ran over and knelt down beside him.  
  
"Frodo?" asked Merry, hoping his cousin would respond in some way. There was nothing.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Pippin asked, even though he knew Merry didn't know the answer.  
  
Merry thought a moment. "Pippin! It's October 6!"  
  
Pippin looked at Merry curiously. "Yeah? So what? It's October si-" Pippin realized what Merry was trying to tell him.  
  
"Was it this bad last year?"  
  
"No, of course not! Remember? We were coming back from the south. He didn't want anyone to know, but I could tell something was wrong, and so could Sam. Sam was the one that figured out what was wrong with Frodo, but he didn't say anything to Frodo about it either."  
  
"He's clutching his shoulder, Merry."  
  
Merry looked down, and sure enough, Frodo was clutching tightly onto his shoulder. He pried Frodo's fingers loose, and cradled his head. "Pippin, we need to get him into bed."  
  
Together, they carried Frodo to the nearest bedroom, that belonging to Bilbo. They gently placed him on Bilbo's large, fluffy bed, and pulled the covers over him.  
  
"Do you think we need to find Sam?" Pippin asked.  
  
"I think all that will do is force Sam to go crazy with worry. We'll just stay here with him, then."  
  
Pippin nodded in agreement, and went to go make tea for he and Merry with the water that he noticed had been boiling, presumably being boiled for Frodo's after-breakfast tea.  
  
  
  
Frodo cried out once more in his sleep. Merry held the cold cloth to Frodo's sweaty brow.  
  
"I sincerely wish for this day to be over with," he said sadly to Pippin, who was on the other side of Frodo's bed. "I hate seeing him tortured like this," he finished, almost as an afterthought.  
  
"It's nearly midnight. Go rest, Merry, and I'll stay by him for awhile," offered Pippin, placing his hand on the cold cloth.  
  
"Thank you, Pippin. I'll be right across the hall, in the guestroom."  
  
"Fine."  
  
Merry stood up, and started walking away, almost reluctantly. He stood at the doorway and watched his poor cousin tossing slightly in his sleep, if one could call it just a normal sleep.  
  
"Merry, it'll be okay. Just get some sleep!" Pippin said, noticing Merry's hesitation. Without a response for Pippin, Merry stepped out and over into the guestroom, though not expecting to get much sleep that night.  
  
  
  
A strangled cry awoke Merry from his light sleep. He raced into the other room.  
  
"Pippin?"  
  
Pippin was cradling Frodo, trying to stop the older hobbit from shaking so badly.  
  
"I-I don't know what's wrong!" Pippin said shakily. "He's almost gotten worse! He's shaky, and so cold! But yet he sweats. It's not natural."  
  
Merry went over and knelt down beside the bed. He brushed the hair out of Frodo's face. There was a pained expression on his sweaty face.  
  
"Pippin," he started nervously, as he took a glance out the window. "it's dawn."  
  
Pippin looked out the window as well. The area was gently glowing by the light of the first few rays of sunshine coming from the east.  
  
"Merry, something's seriously wrong. He should be better!"  
  
Merry cast his eyes back down on Frodo. He was shaking horribly, and sweating. He thought for a moment.  
  
"Pippin, we need to get him to Rivendell," he concluded, taking Frodo's hand in his own and stroking it gently with his thumb. "Elrond will know what to do with his wound. It was he who healed Frodo the first time."  
  
Pippin nodded in silent agreement. Then he remembered something. "Sam! What about Sam?"  
  
"I know. You need to go find Sam, and bring him straight to Rivendell. I'll take Frodo, as fast as my fastest pony will allow."  
  
They began to gather up Frodo. Pippin hurried and brought the ponies to the door of Bag End. Merry was waiting at the door, and together they lifted Frodo onto one. Merry got on behind Frodo.  
  
"Until I see you in Rivendell, Pippin, for good or bad," he said, nodding his head, and then turning the pony and speeding down past the other hobbit- holes of Bagshot Row, and out of Pippin's sight.  
  
Pippin remained a moment, shutting and locking the door of Frodo's home. Although still not customary in the Shire to lock one's doors, Frodo had always locked his, ever since he had returned from their journey, and Pippin wasn't planning on leaving it unlocked for an undetermined amount of time.  
  
He quickly jumped onto Merry's other pony, and hurried off, to begin the nearly impossible task of finding Sam Gamgee somewhere in the Shire.  
  
  
  
TBC 


	2. Two

A/N: Thanks to the whole one person who's reviewed so far. I'm a big sucker for Frodo-angst! This chapter is good and angsty as well. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
(2)  
  
  
  
  
  
Merry rode harder and faster than he had ever before, as he hurried to get Frodo to Rivendell.  
  
He had been riding for two days, now, and was weary, but dared not stop for very long, in fear Frodo might not make it. Frodo had been moaning, and saying things in his fevered sleep. They were things that scared Merry more than he would have ever guessed.  
  
Frodo had been saying random things about his time being trapped in Cirith Ungol. These things were filled with horror, and Merry was horrified at some of it.  
  
Neither Frodo or Sam had ever said very much about the experience to Pippin or himself, just saying that Frodo had been poisoned by that horrible Shelob creature, and for a while, Sam had thought Frodo dead, so he took the ring. Of course, Frodo wasn't, but Sam realized that, and rescued him. What Frodo had never mentioned was what happened before Sam found him at the top of the tower.  
  
Frodo let out a cry. Merry took one hand off the rein, and hugged Frodo to himself. Frodo was still shaking.  
  
Merry just wanted to cry every time Frodo started talking about the horrible events of Mordor. He hadn't realized that they had hurt Frodo so much, and so deeply. He had been stupid in assuming Frodo was okay, and believing it every time Merry found Frodo sitting somewhere alone, eyes full of tears, telling Merry that he was okay. Merry was angry with himself for not seeing the truth in Frodo's 'I'm fine's. Frodo hadn't been okay, not for a very long time.  
  
Merry had been hoping that Pippin would be able to find Sam soon. If something did happen to Frodo- not that Merry was hoping anything of the sort would take place- he would like to have Pippin and Sam there with Frodo, at the end of all things.  
  
Stop thinking those kinds of things, Meriadoc, he thought to himself. There's no good assuming the worst, not quite yet. Elrond is excellent, and maybe Gandalf would be there as well, should luck be with us.  
  
Merry expected for it to take at least another four days to reach Rivendell, if he continued at this speed. Fortunately for him, his pony was strong, and could go fast for a long time, at need. And no need is greater than this, Merry thought sadly.  
  
They went on for some time more. Merry couldn't help thinking about the possibility of Frodo dying. He thought of how it would affect everyone, most importantly, Bilbo.  
  
Merry prodded his pony on faster at the thought of the old hobbit's sorrow.  
  
For a while after that, Frodo was quiet. Soon after noon, though, Frodo's head rolled back onto Merry's chest. Merry looked down into Frodo's eyes and watched as they slowly opened.  
  
Merry immediately pulled off the road, and lifted Frodo off the pony. He laid Frodo down in the soft, sweet smelling grass to the side.  
  
"Merry."  
  
Merry heard the soft, crackly voice of Frodo, and cradled him in his arms.  
  
"Frodo," he whispered, smoothing Frodo's curly hair off his forehead.  
  
"Merry, what's happening?"  
  
"You're sick, Frodo. I'm trying to get you to Rivendell," Merry told him, trying to fight back his own tears as he looked into the pained face of his cousin and one of his dearest friends.  
  
"Merry, it hurts so much." Frodo gasped, clutching onto his shoulder.  
  
"I know. I'll get you to Rivendell, and Elrond will help you. You scared Pippin and I quite horribly."  
  
Frodo let out a painful cry. Merry held him tighter. "Frodo!"  
  
"Merry, it's so painful. it'll never go away, not for as long as I live."  
  
"Frodo, no!" Merry cried. He could see Frodo struggling to stay conscious.  
  
"Merry, help me."  
  
"Frodo!" Merry felt Frodo go limp in his arms. He tightened his grip. "I'll help you, Frodo," he whispered as tears fell freely down his face. "I'll help you."  
  
  
  
Pippin rode toward Michel Delving. He had spent the last two days being unsuccessful at finding Sam anywhere. He would keep looking, though, for Frodo's sake.  
  
Pippin was constantly worried about Frodo. He hoped that Merry was getting nearer to Rivendell as he was getting nearer to Michel Delving.  
  
He pulled along the side of the road, and inquired of a group of four hobbits, one of them being Frederic 'Fatty' Bolger, if they had seen Sam.  
  
"No indeed, Pippin," Fatty said. "What's the need?"  
  
Fatty got no reply. Pippin had sped off once more, not saying anything more to the group.  
  
He came over another hill, and in the valley below laid the town of Michel Delving. He raced toward it, planning to stop at The Galloping Stallion, to inquire about Sam there. Chances are that if Sam had been in the area of Michel Delving, Sam would stop at the Inn for a couple beers, and to catch the latest happenings.  
  
Pippin pulled to a stop at the front of The Galloping Stallion, and hurried into the Inn. He heard random hobbits calling his name, but he was not stopping for idle chatter today. He went straight to the owner, Blanco Bolger.  
  
"Well, this is a surprise, Mr. Peregrin Took!" Blanco exclaimed loudly, coming around from the counter and shaking Pippin's hand.  
  
"I don't have time to stay and chat today, Blanco. I need to know, have you seen Sam Gamgee around here in the last few days?"  
  
Blanco scratched his head, trying to remember. Finally he nodded his head. "I do believe so, Mr. Took. He was here three days ago, chatting with some Tooks down from the Great Smials. He said he was on his way into the South-farthing, to check on some trees he planted in the spring, he said."  
  
Pippin ran out, calling over his shoulder, "My thanks, Blanco Bolger! Good day!"  
  
As soon as he was outside, he mounted Merry's pony, and raced off toward the South-farthing.  
  
  
  
Merry was galloping faster than ever towards Rivendell. Two days had passed since Frodo had woken up, and Merry's anxiety was growing with each mile.  
  
Ever since Frodo had woken up and fallen unconscious again two days ago, he hadn't stopped shaking once. He was shivering horribly, and Merry had taken off his own cloak and wrapped it around Frodo, adding to the ones he and Pippin had thrown around him back at Bag End.  
  
Merry calculated that they had a good two and a half days left to travel, at least, and hoped that Frodo could hang on for that long. He had been noticing changes in Frodo, changes that were for the worst.  
  
Merry was grateful that that day, October 6, Pippin and himself had decided to take Merry's two fastest ponies from Crickhollow to Bag End, even if the reason was to race. He realized now that it was one of the best things they had done, or else it would have been slower going to Buckland, and there they would have had to stop and change ponies, and that could have slowed them down more.  
  
He clung to Frodo with one arm, while the other was holding tight to the rein. He could feel Frodo's slow, labored breathing. He could feel Frodo's heart beating. Merry clung to him, praying that somehow, Frodo would make it to Rivendell, and that Elrond would be able to help him. That was Merry's prayer.  
  
  
  
Pippin headed farther and farther into the South-farthing, and was getting angrier and angrier. No one he had met had seen Sam, except one kind gaffer who said Sam must have been the young hobbit he had passed only yesterday ago, traveling east.  
  
Pippin had immediately changed his direction to east, and tried to follow Sam, all the while, his fear growing within him.  
  
It had been five days since he had watched Merry gallop off with Frodo, making for Rivendell. And everyday since, his fear of Frodo dying, and him not being there with Frodo at the end grew inside of him.  
  
All Pippin wanted was to say his goodbyes, if that was the need. That was Pippin's prayer.  
  
  
  
TBC 


	3. Three

(3)  
  
  
  
Merry raced along the road. He was near to Rivendell, he knew it, and he would not stop for anything else along the way.  
  
In the past couple of days, Frodo hadn't woken up again. Instead, his breathing had become shallower, and not as steady. He always felt either really warm or really cold. He was shaking all the time, as well. Merry feared the worst.  
  
He could recognize the valley that lay before him as the secret valley that led to Rivendell. His heart was overjoyed at this sight. He slowed his pony's speed down and headed down toward the Last Homely House.  
  
As he approached the house, he could see Elves all about. He stopped the first one he came to, and asked to see Elrond immediately.  
  
"He's inside, friend Merry," the Elf answered. "He's with Gandalf."  
  
Gandalf! Merry's heart leaped. He pulled his horse up, and with the assistance of two elves, he bore Frodo inside.  
  
They entered the room where Elrond and Gandalf were talking. An Elf had told them of their arrival, and when they saw Merry they jumped up and Gandalf took Frodo out of Merry's arms.  
  
"Merry, come along. We need to know everything," was Gandalf's simple order.  
  
As Merry walked alongside Gandalf, he watched Gandalf's face. It was a picture of deep sadness. Gandalf had expected nothing of the sort, and was horrified when he heard from Lenowein, one of the Elves that had met Merry, that 'Merry Brandybuck and a sickly, unconscious Frodo Baggins had arrived'. For it had indeed filled Gandalf with a deep fear, and a shadow crossed his heart. He knew that Frodo would be ill on every October 6 because of the stabbing at Weathertop, but he knew not that it would prove so bad.  
  
When they reached the room that Frodo had been nursed back to health in after he had been stabbed, Gandalf gently laid Frodo down into the bed, and Merry began his tale, telling Gandalf everything, starting with when they found Frodo unconscious near his kitchen, to sending Pippin off in search of Sam, to when Frodo awoke two days into the week-long trip to Rivendell. Gandalf became immensely worried, and Elrond hustled them out of the room so he could try and heal Frodo.  
  
Gandalf led Merry down to a large balcony that overlooked a great fountain. It was there that Merry first saw Bilbo, hunched over a great book, scribbling furiously. Merry looked at Gandalf, and without saying a word, Merry knew that he had to be the one to tell Bilbo about Frodo's troubles.  
  
He walked forward, and sat on the bench next to Bilbo. Bilbo looked over and gave a little exclamation. "Well, Meriadoc Brandybuck!"  
  
"Hello, Bilbo," said Merry, perhaps quieter than he had wanted.  
  
Bilbo looked at Merry's downcast face. "Merry, my dear hobbit, I must ask: why are you here? All the way from the Shire, indeed!"  
  
Merry studied the kindly old hobbit for a moment. This was going to hurt Bilbo greatly. "I-I have some news, of Frodo, Bilbo."  
  
"Frodo!" Bilbo exclaimed. "How's my boy doing, anyway?"  
  
Merry looked at him sadly. "He's here, Bilbo. He-he's not well. Do you remember when they were on the run from the Nazgul, and at Weathertop he was wounded?"  
  
Bilbo nodded, though quite not understanding yet.  
  
"Well, since then, on October 6, he falls ill for a day. But this time. it was different. Pippin and I found him unconscious at Bag End that day, and we stayed with him the whole day. He didn't get better, so we decided we should bring him here. I brought him this whole way, and Pippin went off in search of Sam, who was (or is) on one of his trips around the Shire, checking plants and such. Bilbo, he's. he's not well."  
  
Bilbo sat for a moment, taking in everything that Merry had said, and was trying to comprehend. He looked at Gandalf, who had come closer. Gandalf nodded his head sadly. Frodo wasn't right at all.  
  
"I must see him, Gandalf! I must see my boy!" Bilbo sprang up as he spoke those words.  
  
Gandalf came over and sat him back down. "We must wait for Elrond."  
  
Bilbo looked away.  
  
"I have been fearing something for some days now," Gandalf said to the two upset hobbits in front of him. "Of course, I had no idea what that fear was until just a few minutes ago when I got the news. I would have never guessed it had something to do with Frodo," he admitted. "Now, do you have any idea when Pippin and Sam shall be arriving?"  
  
Merry shook his head. "Pippin started his search a week ago. Even if he had found Sam in the first couple of days, they wouldn't be here for some time. I rode my fastest pony as fast as was possible to get here fast. I feared the worst, especially after Frodo woke up and fell unconscious again."  
  
As he told Gandalf the story in Frodo's room, and again to Bilbo out on the balcony, he had left out the part about Frodo's mutterings about his capture in Mordor. He could not bear to utter the horrible things again, and especially not to Bilbo! It would just shatter Bilbo's old heart.  
  
They sat in silence for a great while, until a solemn Elrond came out to them.  
  
"It's not good for Frodo. I discovered that Frodo's wound had not been totally relieved of the poison from the knife. It has been working in him these past couple of years, and now is finally trying to kill him. There may be a chance that he may be saved yet, but I cannot guarantee anything. Things will be touch and go for a while. Gandalf, may I suggest gathering the Fellowship?" Elrond finished sadly, hinting that they may want to be ready to say goodbye.  
  
"Elrond, I must see him!" exclaimed Bilbo, suddenly jumping up. "Please, you must let me see my boy!"  
  
"Follow me, Bilbo. Gandalf, please consider what I've said." With that, Elrond led Bilbo away to see Frodo.  
  
Merry continued to sit there, lost in his tears. Gandalf sat down and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Merry, before I leave I must tell you that I'm very proud of you and Pippin for the way you have handled the situation. You got Frodo here fast, and that may just save his life yet."  
  
Merry looked up through his tears. "If only Pippin could hurry up and find Sam!"  
  
Gandalf stood up. "My dear hobbit, I'm sure Sam will be found, and they will be here quickly. I must go for a while, and find the other members of our Fellowship."  
  
Merry nodded.  
  
Gandalf said no more to Merry. He went out and found Shadowfax. In a flurry of robes, he took off as fast as Shadowfax would allow at that time to find the other members of the Fellowship.  
  
Gandalf at last knew what the shadow over his heart had been about, and still had almost no hope that Frodo could survive this. He rode, though, furiously, for the sake of his friends.  
  
  
  
Pippin pulled his pony to a sudden stop outside Crickhollow.  
  
"Sam, go get another of Merry's ponies. I'm going to get us some food, and then we need to get going!"  
  
Pippin watched Sam nod, and turn towards the stable. Sam wasn't taking it very well, and Pippin knew he needed to do something to cheer him up, even a little.  
  
Pippin had found finally found Sam very near to Bywater. Sam didn't know why Pippin wanted him to get on the pony at first, but he didn't ask questions until they went right past Hobbiton and down the road towards the Brandywine. Pippin had to tell him the whole story, and as he finished, Sam burst into tears, and started to immediately blame himself, however illogical that may be. Since then, he had barely gotten two words out of Sam.  
  
Pippin heard the door to the small house open, and the shuffling of feet into the kitchen. He offered Sam some bread and beer. Sam just took it and sat down.  
  
"Sam, you don't need to worry so much. He's with Elrond, and Gandalf, if we're lucky. He'll be fine," Pippin said, more to try and convince himself of that than to convince Sam.  
  
"Mr. Pippin, don't try and make me feel better," begged Sam, looking away.  
  
"Sam, you mustn't let any of the blame fall on yourself!"  
  
"What would have happened if you two hadn't decided to visit Frodo?" Sam exploded, to Pippin's surprise. "He could very well be dead right now, no thanks to me!"  
  
"Sam, stop it. Blaming yourself won't save Frodo," Pippin softly reminded him.  
  
"I knew what time of the year it was. I never should have left."  
  
"You shouldn't beat yourself up over it. Come along. We'd best be going, now."  
  
Sam stood up and followed Pippin out to the ponies. They got on, and took off through the North-gate, and onto the road.  
  
"Mr. Pippin, do you think they've reached Rivendell yet?" Sam asked quietly some time after they left Buckland.  
  
Pippin calculated the time. It was October the 12th. "If they're not yet there, they should be there today or tomorrow, unless they've run into trouble along the way."  
  
Sam said no more. Pippin sped his horse up, and Sam followed suit.  
  
'If only we're on time.' Pippin thought as they rode. 'I haven't said goodbye yet', for Pippin was doubtful that Frodo would survive.  
  
Sam was also thinking along the same lines, but with lots of self- hatred and anger mixed in. 'How could you have left him alone, Sam Gamgee? You made a promise to look after him, and you broke it.'  
  
There was no more talk between the two for some time.  
  
  
  
TBC 


	4. Four

A/N: I need to clear up some of the time issues in this story. I think I may be confusing some with how these chapters are set up. Like a good West Wing episode, it jumps back in forth with time. In this chapter, Gandalf's arrival in Minas Tirith is much later than the event that follows it, the quiet moments with Frodo and Bilbo. The last chapter left off with Pippin and Sam riding from Crickhollow, which in this series will be dated as the 12th of October, but the scene before it, Gandalf riding off to Minas Tirith, takes place later, on the 14th of October. If you follow closely, you'll understand the passing of time throughout the sections. (And, like a good West Wing fan, I've learned how to keep track of days during episodes that skip around with flashbacks and the sort.) If you have a question, please ask me, and I'll clear up any timing questions you may have!  
  
(4)  
  
  
  
Gandalf reached the gates of Minas Tirith. At once, he was received, and rode quickly up to the King's palace.  
  
"You wish to speak to the King?" asked one of the men at the door.  
  
"It is a matter of utmost importance," Gandalf said quickly, needing every minute.  
  
"Come with me, then." Gandalf followed this short man, until they reached the King's chamber.  
  
"Your Majesty, there is a Gandalf here to see you and he says it is a matter of utmost importance," he said.  
  
"Then let him in!" came the voice of Aragorn from inside.  
  
The man opened the door. He bowed as Gandalf entered, and shut the door behind him.  
  
"Gandalf, what brings you here?" asked Aragorn. He could see the look in Gandalf's eyes, the one of sadness.  
  
"Aragorn, I have bad news."  
  
"Well, friend, please go on! You're making me nervous," Aragorn pleaded.  
  
"It's mainly about Frodo. You remember the incident of Weathertop, of course." Aragorn nodded. He already didn't like the sound of this.  
  
"On October 6, Merry and Pippin went on a visit to Bag End. When they arrived they found Frodo unconscious. They stayed with him the whole day, for Sam was out on one of his trips around the Shire, tending to various gardens and trees and so forth. Frodo didn't get any better, and was worse in the morning. They decided to get Frodo to Rivendell, which was a very wise decision. Merry took the task of bringing him, and Pippin got the task of finding Sam and bringing him to Rivendell as soon as possible. Merry got Frodo to Rivendell in a week. Elrond has looked at him, and the diagnosis isn't good. The knife wound he received hadn't been cleaned out properly, and there was some remnant of the poison in the wound. It had just been taking its time to act. He's very ill, Aragorn, and Elrond, and I myself are afraid he won't last long. We are trying to reassemble the Fellowship, in case-in case any goodbyes are needed." Gandalf said the last words with a distinct pain in his voice.  
  
"I must come at once, then. Give me just a moment, and I'll be ready to go," said Aragorn, visibly shaken by the news. He left the room and began calling for various people.  
  
Gandalf, in the meanwhile, stayed back in the room. He was hunched over more, and was looking more an old man as every waking day passed. His anxiety for Frodo was growing each moment, and he began to wonder what the poison of the wound might do to Frodo before he finally gave in to the probably welcoming darkness. He had also seen fear in Aragorn's eyes. Underneath, there also were signs of self-hatred. Aragorn had been the one to tend the wound at Weathertop, and for the fortnight that had passed between there and the Fords of Brunien. Had Gandalf known it, it was quite like the same self-loathing Sam was feeling, only for quite a different reason altogether.  
  
When Aragorn returned, they left the King's court in silence. They took Shadowfax and the fastest horse in Minas Tirith, and rode off, still uttering no word, just caught up in their own emotion, and their own feelings.  
  
  
  
Bilbo sat alone beside his nephew's bedside. From all the looks he had received from various Elves, Elrond, and even Gandalf himself, they all believed that Frodo lay on his deathbed. Bilbo refused to believe it, not even for a moment.  
  
Frodo was strong, and his desire to live was great. Bilbo could not believe that Frodo could die from this. He refused to.  
  
But Frodo's hand was so cold to his touch. His face was a mask of pain, and he constantly shivered, or was just shaking. Bilbo couldn't stand to see his nephew in so much pain.  
  
I wasn't supposed to outlive him, Bilbo thought sadly.  
  
He studied the coloring of Frodo's young face. It was a deep red color, and as Frodo twisted and turned, trickles of sweat rolled down his forehead. His curly hair was all matted, and Bilbo brushed it away as had been done so many times before.  
  
Frodo moaned in his sleep. Bilbo tried to resist the tears threatening, but found it of no avail. He tightened his grip on Frodo's arm as the tears fell freely down his face.  
  
Bilbo also was experiencing his own feelings of self-loathing. For it had been he who found the Ring, and he who kept it, and he who passed it along to Frodo, and due to that, Frodo had been in exile, stabbed, and forced to make his way through the Land of the Shadows itself to destroy it. And yet, there was some part of him, some tiny part that said that perhaps it had been a good thing for all that the Ring had been passed to them. Apparently, Hobbits tended to fade fast, and Frodo had been resolved to not let the Ring fall to evil hands. Yet in Bilbo's mind, that did not make up for all the hardships that had befallen Frodo.  
  
Merry poked his head in, and watched Bilbo as he wiped away the sweat on Frodo's brow, and held his hand ever so tightly. A lump formed in Merry's throat as he watched Frodo, one of his closest friends, struggle so with pain.  
  
"Merry, come walk with me," said a quiet voice from behind. Merry turned and found Elrond standing there, a sad smile on his face. Merry looked once more at Frodo, sighed, swallowed his lump, and walked in silence with Elrond, not knowing where the wise Elf was leading him.  
  
  
  
Legolas and Gimli rode swiftly on the road that would lead them to the hidden valley of Rivendell. Through Elrond's Elves, they had found out about Frodo's wounds quickly, and had gotten on their way immediately. They were expecting to be traveling for a week, going as fast as Legolas' horse would allow. (Gimli, as expected, was riding behind Legolas on the same horse.)  
  
They were silent, for they knew not what to say at the moment. Each was worried with their thoughts, and neither knew what to say to other, for once.  
  
"How do you suppose everyone else is taking it?" asked Gimli, at length. The silence was becoming unbearable to him, and making Legolas talk would do a little good for both of them.  
  
"What you'd expect, Gimli. Though I suppose taking it worse would have to be poor Bilbo."  
  
"You're right, of course. And I do hope Gandalf and Aragorn will hurry. If something were to happen, I shouldn't like it to without them."  
  
"And you're right, too. And that Elf said Pippin was still in the Shire, as far as they knew, looking for Sam. I do hope they hurry, too."  
  
Legolas and Gimli were silent once more. Though maybe the lack of words was not the main reason. Legolas could feel Gimli struggle to hold back his tears, as Gimli's grip on him was tightening.  
  
"Gimli, it's okay," Legolas tried, maybe in vain, to get the Dwarf to let it out.  
  
"He's become very dear to me, you know. I mean, he was the one to-to save us all." Gimli had barely gotten out the last few words when the tears finally came. Legolas felt them on the back of his cloak, and somehow felt relieved for his friend. It wasn't easy to make a Dwarf cry, so they say, and Frodo must have had a great impact on his life to make Gimli do such a thing.  
  
Legolas tried to turn his mind to happier things, but found it impossible. So he settled on riding in silence, and just wishing for the best to come of things.  
  
  
  
"Sam, you've really got to stop that," Pippin reprimanded Sam, for Sam was once more loudly yelling at himself for 'this whole blasted mess'.  
  
"You do realize that this would have happened, had you been there or not?" Pippin asked him, as he got no reply to his previous statement.  
  
"Mr. Pippin, please just stop. You're not going to make me feel any better," Sam said dully, turning away from Pippin.  
  
"That's it!" yelled Pippin, to the surprise of Sam and himself as well. "You couldn't have prevented it, nor would have made it any better had you stayed at Bag End. Frodo would still be ill, Sam! Frodo was expecting Merry and I to come that day, we had been planning on it for some time, for we hadn't seen him for a while and wanted to catch up. You're a fool if you think anything would have made it better, save the wisdom of Elrond alone." Pippin's voice had trailed off at the end. He didn't know why, maybe it was his stress over the whole situation that made him do it, but Sam's constant self-hating had finally set off a tirade.  
  
Sam's face took on a hurt expression, and he almost shrank back from Pippin, it seemed. Pippin sensed that, too.  
  
"Sam, I-I'm sorry. It's just. you've got to stop bullying yourself. I'm stressed, you're stressed, everyone is stressed, and I didn't mean for it to sound harsh, if that's what you thought. But it's the truth," Pippin explained, trying to apologize to Sam. Pippin really hadn't meant to yell, but something inside had been set off, and he ended up taking it out on Sam.  
  
Sam considered him for a moment, looking Pippin in the eyes. Finally, he spoke. "I understand, Mr. Pippin. I'm not mad, but. you need to understand my commitment to Mr. Frodo."  
  
"I do understand it, Sam, and I'm not trying to tell you how you should be feeling right now. Just don't get that mad at yourself. It won't do you, or me, any good."  
  
Sam saw the wisdom in Pippin's words. As he watched Pippin, he realized that even Pippin had changed since the War.  
  
Pippin had almost grown up too quickly. After all, he was in his later tweens, and yet he had matured to the point of an older Hobbit. His words, at times, were very wise, and not nearly as brash as they had once been, though there still were plenty of times where Pippin acted just as young, and younger even, than when he first left Hobbiton that one day, to begin the journey of a lifetime.  
  
"Mr. Pippin?"  
  
Pippin looked over at Sam. Sam now seemed to have a smile on his face, well, as happy of one as you could get at a time like this one.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'll try not to hate myself so much."  
  
Pippin returned the smile. Those words were all Pippin needed to hear that night.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
Another A/N: That chapter was a little longer than the previous three, I think. Anyway, thanks to all the faithful people who have reviewed this story! Keep them coming, I'd love to know what everyone thinks of this! (It goes for my other stories as well ;) 


	5. Five

(5)  
  
  
  
  
  
Aragorn and Gandalf continued on the long journey from Minas Tirith to Rivendell. They had not talked for some time, concentrating only on riding hard and getting back as soon as possible.  
  
Gandalf had been having strange feelings in his heart during the last two days. Feelings of darkness and evil were becoming stronger every mile, and he suspected that it had everything to do with Frodo.  
  
"Gandalf, what are you thinking?" asked Aragorn some time into the day's journey.  
  
"Something terrible is happening, Aragorn. I can feel it," was all he said, which was unusual for him in that respect.  
  
"What?"  
  
"We need to ride hard, and with all quickness."  
  
Aragorn just nodded, and spurred his horse on. If Gandalf said something was amiss, he wasn't going to waste their time questioning it.  
  
  
  
"What's happening?" asked Merry, watching Frodo struggle in Bilbo's arms.  
  
"It's getting to him. He's in a lot of pain, even in his unconscious state," said Elrond, as he rushed over to Frodo's bedside to more carefully assess the situation before doing anything else.  
  
At that moment, Legolas and Gimli rushed into the room, panting in an effort to get their breath back.  
  
Legolas looked at Frodo. "Elrond, what has happened to him?" he asked worriedly.  
  
"Merry, take them and explain everything, please," he said quickly. "Bilbo needs to stay here and help me."  
  
Merry, knowing an argument would only make Elrond angry, left with Legolas and Gimli. As he left, he looked back once more at Frodo. His heart ached.  
  
They went outside and sat near the river.  
  
"Merry, please explain to us what's going on," said Legolas as they sat near the flowing water.  
  
Merry slowly recounted the tale, from the very beginning at Bag End, that awful day three weeks ago, and telling everything that had happened up to that day. And, as always, Merry left out the details of Frodo's mutterings on the journey to Rivendell. He still just did not want to talk about them.  
  
Legolas and Gimli sat in silence. Merry wished for the whole ordeal to be over, so that he and Frodo may return to the Shire, full of happiness once more. He wanted it to be over, wanted to be rid of the pain in his heart. Numerous sleepless nights had taken their toll on him, leaving bags under his young eyes and him being overtired and groggy. Legolas noticed this, and confronted the Hobbit.  
  
"Merry, you look like you haven't had a proper sleep in weeks!"  
  
"That's true enough."  
  
"You should get some sleep. Even a light nap would be good!"  
  
"But what if—"  
  
"I promise we will come get you if something should happen with Frodo," Gimli assured, worried for both Frodo and Merry.  
  
Merry looked skeptical.  
  
"Go!" both Legolas and Gimli said quickly. Sensing that if he weren't to go then, Legolas and Gimli would forcefully put him into bed, and make sure he slept.  
  
"Alright. You promised, remember?" Merry asked, making sure that he would not be forgotten.  
  
"We remember! Please, Merry, you need it," Legolas reassured him. Merry trudged slowly off to try and find peace in sleep.  
  
"Do you suppose Gandalf and Aragorn will be arriving soon?" wondered Gimli, in an effort to break the almost awkward silence.  
  
"I do, since I'm sure Gandalf will have his Shadowfax, and Aragorn must have a horse that will go quite fast, at their need."  
  
Legolas and Gimli returned once more to their silence.  
  
  
  
A mist lay over the world. In the distance, he could see familiar shapes, shapes of his closest friends. He tried calling them, beckoning them to come nearer, but they didn't seem to hear. They remained the same distance away, though they called to him. He heard their strong voices, but could not utter another sound. He was completely mute.  
  
He turned, and a shadow was overtaking him. He tried running, tried screaming, but to no avail. He was overtaken by the shadow, and no one in the distance had understood what had happened…  
  
  
  
Elrond continued to treat Frodo, as Bilbo held him tightly, trying to control his shaking so Elrond could work. Then, as suddenly as he had violently started, Frodo stopped. He lay limp in Bilbo's arms.  
  
"Elrond! Is he—" asked Bilbo frightfully. Elrond quickly checked.  
  
"No, he is not. His unconscious state has deepened, though."  
  
Bilbo sighed in relief, though his nerves will still sharp with worry. "Elrond, do you yet know if my boy will be okay?"  
  
"I do not. I am sorry, Bilbo. If Frodo is to heal, we should know it soon, though. I have never seen something of this sort happen before. No one under my care has ever stayed in unconscious slumber this long. Three weeks… such a long time to struggle unconsciously."  
  
"Elrond, I'm afraid," Bilbo said quietly.  
  
In the many years Elrond had known this Hobbit, he had never known him to sound so frightened, or look quite so old. Elrond had grown fond of Bilbo, as he had grown fond of Frodo, and did not like the look of old age and worry that had become part of Bilbo in the past two weeks.  
  
"We all are," Elrond said gently. "I am doing all I can, and there even may even be something else to be done when Gandalf arrives. Wizards are really surprising beings, and Gandalf the most so of all."  
  
Bilbo didn't say anything. He held Frodo's hand tightly. It felt so cold; Bilbo reckoned he hadn't felt anything like it since… he really didn't want to go there at the moment. The memories of that horrible day, so many, many years ago were not pleasant, either.  
  
Elrond noticed the expression on Bilbo's face change to someone remembering far off memories, and in Bilbo's case, painful ones. He wasn't going to press it, though, for the time being. He quietly stood up and left Bilbo alone with Frodo.  
  
  
  
"Is this all the faster we can go?" asked Sam impatiently, as they made their way toward Rivendell.  
  
"Sam, this is the fastest my poor pony will go! We're nearly there, I'm guessing."  
  
"Mr. Pippin, what if—what if something has happened already?"  
  
"Sam, please do not what-if me! You'll worry yourself to death."  
  
"I can't help it, Mr. Pippin. It's all I think about!"  
  
"Try to think of something else. Anything else. You just need to have faith in Elrond. Faith that he'll be able to save him, and that's faith that I have." Pippin was surprised at the words that came out of his own mouth. It seemed much more wise than most things he ever spoke.  
  
"I do have faith, Mr. Pippin. I-I just can't stop worrying about it." Sam's voice was shaky. His heart was heavy, and his mind filled with worry. Pippin could see it in the Hobbit's face.  
  
I've seen so much sorrow; I can tell when someone is upset.  
  
Pippin didn't like that. If he had a choice, he would much rather be the young Hobbit who was looking forward to his coming-of-age party, and roaming the Shire with Merry and Frodo, and just enjoying life, instead of aging too fast, and being able to distinct sorrow before joy in someone's features.  
  
"Let's stop. Maybe a quick bite will keep your mind off Frodo, for a few minutes even."  
  
"Mr. Pippin! I couldn't! We have to get to Rivendell!"  
  
"Sam! Our ponies need a break. If we don't stop, they're going to collapse and then it will take longer. Merry's ponies were not made for journeys like this one."  
  
Sam reluctantly agreed, and they pulled off the road and into an area of shade. Pippin pulled some food out of his sack, and Sam passed him the water.  
  
Sam ate, but Pippin had been wrong. Food hadn't taken his mind off Frodo. It had only made him think of him even more.  
  
  
  
Gandalf and Aragorn pulled their horses up to the front of the Last Homely House, and rushed inside. An Elf, knowing their errand, ran ahead to inform Elrond, and Gandalf and Aragorn dragged their weary selves down to Frodo's room.  
  
"Gandalf, Aragorn. It is indeed a blessing to see you," greeted Elrond from Frodo's side.  
  
"What has happened since I was last here?" Gandalf asked quickly.  
  
"He's not better, if that's what you wanted to know. I think he may have gotten worse. Two days ago, he started violently shaking. Then, as suddenly as the attack started, it stopped. He's been still since. I do not know what is going on exactly, but I know that he is not dead, but clinging to his very life. Hobbits are indeed stronger than any, man, elf, dwarf, or otherwise. Any of us would have been gone for sure by now."  
  
Bilbo heard these words, and couldn't help a smile, small as it was. Hobbits were strong, as he and Frodo had proved, and Frodo was proving once more.  
  
Aragorn knelt beside the young Hobbit. He ran his fingers gently through Frodo's curly hair. He immediately began to blame himself. He was the one responsible to make sure that the wound had been cleaned out. By right, it was his fault.  
  
"It's not your fault," said Gandalf, knowing what he was thinking.  
  
"How can you say that?" Aragorn said with bitterness in his voice. "I was the one responsible for the wound at Weathertop. I didn't properly clean it!"  
  
"Stop it. If one blamed themselves for everything out of their control, we would all be puddles of self-hatred. Worry for Frodo, not for what you could have done."  
  
Aragorn knew Gandalf's words were wise, and true. He was spurred from his thoughts at a loud gasp from Frodo.  
  
"What's happening?" asked Bilbo, who had released Frodo's hand at the gasp.  
  
"I don't know," said Elrond. "I fear the worst, though."  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
A/N: Cliffhanger, anyone? Hmm… So. Review. I'm gonna keep going this weekend! Hope you all are excited, or whatever. New chapter soon! 


	6. Six

(6)  
  
  
  
Pippin and Sam were making good time to Rivendell. They had rode furiously for the last two days, and had just stopped twice.  
  
Now they had stopped a third, to eat a little something before once again riding hard.  
  
"How much farther do you expect Rivendell is?" asked Sam.  
  
Pippin did some math in his head. "Today is the 25th of October. We should be there any time, now."  
  
Sam sighed. "I only hope we're in time…"  
  
"We will be! Now don't you start worrying again, Sam. Elrond's the best, and as I've said before, with any luck Gandalf will be there. Frodo's going to be okay," Pippin said assuredly, but he had his own doubts. He had a sinking feeling in his heart that all wasn't well, but he wasn't about to let Sam pick up on that doubt. Pippin didn't think he could deal with Sam worrying more than usual.  
  
"Do you really believe that, Pippin?" Sam asked him, to be sure.  
  
Pippin hesitated only a moment. "Yes, Sam, I do," he said, which was the truth, although he couldn't ignore his heart.  
  
Sam studied him, trying to figure out whether Pippin was telling the truth. Finally, he said, "Mr. Pippin, if that's what you believe, then I suppose I shall as well."  
  
Pippin gave a small smile. That's all he wanted.  
  
He had become rather fond of Sam during their journey, more so than ever before, and he didn't like to see the Hobbit be so depressed all of the time.  
  
"We'd best get a move on," said Pippin once they had finished their small meal. They packed their stuff, got on their ponies, and sped off into the distance.  
  
Some time later that day, Pippin whooped, and Sam looked at him funny.  
  
"Did something bite you, Mr. Pippin?" he asked.  
  
"No, Sam! We're nearly there! I'm beginning to recognize things around here. Ride on, for it's not too far anymore!"  
  
Pippin's encouraging words had a great effect on Sam, and he spurred his pony along, Pippin doing the same.  
  
  
  
Legolas and Gimli sat together out on a terrace. They had seen Aragorn and Gandalf rush up to the house on their steeds, and now they were anxiously awaiting word about Frodo.  
  
"I do hope Pippin and Sam arrive soon," said Legolas, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between them.  
  
"Do you believe Frodo's actually… going to?" Gimli asked him, a sad look in his eyes.  
  
Legolas stopped a moment. DID he actually believe it? "I—I don't know, really. Elrond's skills are superb, they're the best of any Elf still living in Middle-earth, but… I just don't know. It all seems so helpless."  
  
"You must stop thinking like that! You haven't been yourself for sometime, now. Trust Elrond."  
  
Legolas smiled. "And all this from a Dwarf!"  
  
"Hmph! We Dwarves can respect you Elves."  
  
"Tell that to the rest of the Dwarves… they haven't gotten it yet."  
  
Gimli sighed. "Even this can't stop my mind from thinking of Frodo…"  
  
"I don't expect it shall ever leave our minds, until it's over…" Legolas stopped that sentence, not liking where it was going.  
  
"Until it's over… I hope it doesn't end that way, Legolas."  
  
"So do I, Gimli."  
  
  
  
Merry sat straight up in his bed. Another nightmare had plagued his mind.  
  
Every time he fell asleep, he dreamed of Frodo dying. It was always Frodo dying, never anything more. He just wanted it to stop, but he knew it wouldn't until…  
  
Merry didn't like thinking about that outcome, either. Frodo was the strongest Hobbit he had ever met, and he wasn't going to start losing faith in Frodo now. Frodo had pulled through every time so far. So why should he even THINK about giving up faith now?  
  
Merry had never once imagined earlier in his life that things would turn out like this. That he would grow older quicker than most Hobbits, because of friendship, that he would face so many challenges at one time, and overcome them. He had no idea that one of his best friends would be dying so young, and to think it all could have been avoided had it not been for him and his stupid idea to light a fire on Weathertop. How could he have been so foolish?  
  
Merry got up and started to take a walk around the house. He knew eventually, he'd make his way back to Frodo's room, but he didn't want to face it just yet. He needed time, and he was going to give himself some time to think things through. His head was filled with all these thoughts, and he dearly wished he had Pippin there to talk to.  
  
  
  
"Hold him still!" cried Elrond to Aragorn. Frodo was violently lashing around in bed, an effect of the poison in his system.  
  
Bilbo hung in the background, too worried to be of much help at the moment. Gandalf was off getting some of Elrond's supplies, and Bilbo was counting the seconds it was taking Gandalf.  
  
He was overly anxious, he knew it. He had total faith in Elrond, yet… what if that wasn't enough? Bilbo shuddered.  
  
'I'm not losing him, silly!' he told himself, trying his hardest to believe it. It wasn't working, though. And Bilbo was angry with himself that he had lost all faith.  
  
Aragorn held Frodo to the bed tightly. He watched Elrond pour something down Frodo's mouth. Frodo coughed, and then the shaking lessened just a bit.  
  
"His heart is beating abnormally," Elrond said. "GANDALF!" he yelled, even loud for an Elf, and Elves were VERY loud yellers.  
  
Seconds later, Gandalf ran into the room with a mixture of some sort. He handed it swiftly to Elrond, who put it down Frodo's mouth as well.  
  
"What is that for?" asked Aragorn.  
  
"We're trying to flush the poison out," was all Elrond said before Frodo let out a strangled yelp.  
  
Aragorn loosened his grip on Frodo as Frodo stopped his shaking once more. Frodo was whimpering in pain.  
  
Elrond stood up swiftly. "Gandalf, we must find Legolas, Gimli, and Merry quickly. Aragorn, STAY HERE!" Gandalf and Elrond ran from the room.  
  
Bilbo came over to Aragorn's side.  
  
"He's not going to make it, is he? This is the end."  
  
Aragorn knew in his heart that that was the reason Gandalf and Elrond had left to go get Legolas, Gimli, and Merry. He didn't want to say that to Bilbo, but Bilbo already knew.  
  
"I'm afraid so," said Aragorn quietly. It was just tearing him up inside. To think that this all could have been prevented by just cleaning out the wound a bit better…  
  
Merry, at that moment, ran into the room. He saw the look in Aragorn and Bilbo's face, and he knew immediately. He ran to the bedside, opposite of Aragorn and Bilbo, and wept.  
  
Aragorn gathered Frodo up in his arms, and Merry and Bilbo each held onto a hand.  
  
They didn't say anything to one another, not until Legolas and Gimli burst into the room, followed by Gandalf and Aragorn.  
  
"This is it, isn't it?" Legolas asked. No one answered, for they all knew the answer to his question. Yes, it was.  
  
They gathered around his bedside. They watched as Frodo's breathing became much more labored. Watched, as his face became deathly pale. Watched as he took a last, harsh breath, and fell limp in Aragorn's arms.  
  
Frodo Baggins was dead.  
  
  
  
Pippin and Sam raced their ponies up to the Last Homely House. To their surprise, Gandalf was standing there, apparently waiting for them.  
  
"Gandalf!" cried Sam, jumping off his pony and running up to Gandalf. Pippin did the same, but stopped short at the look on Gandalf's face.  
  
He felt himself go weak. "Gandalf, no…"  
  
Gandalf nodded gravely. "I'm so sorry, Pippin, Sam. It was only a few minutes ago…" he trailed off. Grief was heavy in his voice, and he could bear to say no more.  
  
"NO!" Sam cried out. "It can't be true!"  
  
Gandalf laid a hand on his shoulder. "Samwise, I'm afraid so…"  
  
"NO!" Sam cried, flinging off Gandalf's hand and running into the house.  
  
Pippin sank to the ground. "We were too late," he said, the realization sinking in. "We were too late…"  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
(I expect to be killed repeatedly about now. I'm not apologizing, though.) 


	7. Epilouge

(Epilogue)  
  
  
  
The funeral procession marched up onto the top of the hill, overlooking Hobbiton.  
  
In front, carrying the small wooden box containing the body of Frodo Baggins, was Aragorn, Gandalf, and Legolas, followed by Bilbo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Gimli.  
  
When they reached the top of the hill, they set the box down next to the small hole that had been dug out earlier. They stood for a moment, in silent remembrance.  
  
Gandalf finally spoke. "Once before I said 'Many that live deserve death, and many that die deserve life'. Frodo, most of all, deserves life. Frodo was a brave Hobbit. Many things happened to him in his short life, but he missed many more things. May he rest in peace…" Gandalf trailed off, a couple tears rolling down his face.  
  
Aragorn walked forward and knelt beside Frodo's box. "I give him my sword. To his service I pledged it, and to him all the honor of the Kings of Gondor I give." He stood up, and walked back to his place.  
  
Legolas walked up next. "To him I give my bow, given to me by the Lady of the Wood. This bow has slain many creatures, and now I give it to him, with the highest honor of the Elves of Mirkwood." Legolas wiped his face, and stepped back.  
  
Then came Gimli. "I pledged my ax in his service as well, and with him it shall go to it's final resting place, along with the reverence and remembrance from the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, the town of Dale, and he shall be distinguished with such honor as is given to Balin and those that perished in Moria, and to Thror, Thrain, and Thorin Oakenshield, buried under the Mountain." Gimli sighed, and retreated.  
  
Next up went Merry and Pippin. Merry started to speak, but was choked up. He knelt down and wept beside Frodo's small coffin, as did Pippin. Finally, they stood and bowed deeply, as was the long-time custom in the Shire.  
  
Sam knelt down. He whispered softly, "I couldn't keep my promise, Mr. Frodo. I lost you. I hope you can forgive me." As soon as he finished those words, he started to sob. After some minutes, Aragorn gently took him and led him away.  
  
Bilbo was the last. He lay Sting down. He couldn't utter a word though, and backed up immediately into Gandalf's waiting arms, and cried.  
  
There they stayed for minutes, some sobbing, some remembering Frodo from former times. Soon, though, Gandalf, Aragorn, and Legolas lowered the small coffin into the ground. Sam leapt forward.  
  
"MR. FRODO!" he wailed. Gandalf placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"He'll be in pain no more, Samwise. He's healed."  
  
They soon left the hill, to return to Bag End. Soon, they would all leave the Shire, and return to their homes, leaving behind Merry, Pippin, and Sam, Bilbo returning to Rivendell, to spend the remainder of his time before he sailed West.  
  
That day was one of the hardest days any of them had experienced, one not to be forgotten, ever.  
  
And the angels were silent…  
  
  
  
  
  
END 


End file.
